Darkness And Light
by Shirl
Summary: COMPLETED-When Carter's experiment goes horribly wrong, he must face the evil within himself. Based on the musical Jekyll And Hyde.
1. ACT 1 (part A)

KEYWORDS: JC, AL, LKn, PB, with cameo appearance by DM and RR  
CATEGORY: Gothic Horror/Romance  
TIMELINE: The Year 1888, No Spoilers  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from ER. They are the  
property of Warner Brothers, Constant C Productions, NBC, etc.  
This story is based, in its entirety, on the musical "Jekyll and Hyde".  
ARCHIVE: You are welcome to download this story for your own reading,  
but please do not archive it on any website without my permission.  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Quite a while ago, someone on alt.tv.er.creative suggested  
writing an ER story based on a musical (sorry, I don't know who it was).  
I'm a big fan of musical theatre so I knew this was one challenge I wanted  
to try. For those of you who don't like that sort of thing, don't worry,  
there is no singing or dancing in this story :-) I have changed some  
situations in both the ER world and the musical's storyline to suit myself.  
And now, here comes the big...  
  
WARNING: This story involves major character death(s) and when Carter  
assumes his evil persona, he commits some vile acts that he otherwise  
wouldn't do as the John Carter we know and love. To date, this is the  
darkest and most disturbing fic I have written so please, if you don't  
think this will appeal to you, DON'T READ IT! I don't want to receive  
comments like: "Carter would never do that" or "This is too depressing".  
That's why I'm giving the warning.  
  
So, if I haven't scared you away yet, the curtain is rising now...  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Slow and shuffling, my steps echo throughout the length of the corridor.  
The steady and hollow sound beats in time to the throbbing at my temples.  
With each step, I can feel my conviction and resolve growing stronger.  
I must succeed in my quest. For him. And for myself; to prove to  
the world that my theory is not the fancy of a mad fool but one of  
undeniable merit.  
  
As I pass by the front desk, the clerk nods at me. "See you again,  
Doctor Carter."  
  
"Yes, good evening," I reply politely, with a slight tip of my hat.  
  
That is usually the extent of our conversations; a mere hello and  
goodbye. Tonight, however, I sense the clerk has more to say and  
I am not disappointed. "Are you off to the party, then?"  
  
I stop in my tracks and face him properly. This particular courtesy,  
among many others, is something my father has instilled in me. Always  
turn to directly face the person to whom you are speaking. "What party  
would that be?" I ask, with an upturned brow.  
  
"Why, your engagement party, of course!"  
  
"And how would you know about it?"  
  
The clerk guffaws slightly, sees that my expression is less than amused,  
and clears his throat in discomfort. "Well, uh, sir...everyone knows  
about it."  
  
"Is that a fact." Although I am by no means upset by his inquiry,  
my gaze remains cool as the young clerk fumbles for a remark that  
will please me.  
  
"It's the talk of the town. Er, that is, in a good way, of course.  
Everyone thinks very highly of you and your lovely fiancé."  
  
I decide to let the man off the hook, for he certainly means no harm.  
"That's kind of you to say. I must be going now or I'll be late.  
And it just wouldn't do to be late for my own party, now, would it?"  
  
The clerk smiles in relief at the apparent return of my good nature.  
"No, Doctor Carter, it certainly wouldn't. I wish you all the best."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
At a brisker pace, I exit out the doors into the night air.  
A glance at my pocket watch tells me I truly shall be late unless  
I hurry. I spent more time visiting than I should have. Crossing  
the road, I aim for my destination with purposeful steps.  
  
***************  
  
My eyes roam over the finely dressed ladies in colourful silks and  
lace; the men in smart black suits with nary a wrinkle. With a  
nervous tug on the bottom of my own jacket, I enter the crowded hall.  
Several men - some that I know well and others that I am sure I have never  
laid eyes on before - clap me on the back with winks and congratulations.  
Although I don't doubt that most of them are sincere, I feel that some  
of them are distinctly mocking me. It seems I am to become another  
bachelor lost to the sanctity of marriage.  
  
The women seem to be keeping their distance but that suits me just fine.  
There is only one particular lady I wish to find and though I scan  
the sea of faces, I cannot seem to find her in the crowd.  
  
Above the sound of laughter and overlapping threads of conversation,  
I suddenly hear her voice behind me.  
  
"You couldn't be more wrong. You don't know him as I do."  
  
Slowly, I turn around and see her standing by one of the columns.  
Neither she nor her companion have spotted me yet and although she is  
speaking quietly, her words reach my ears as clear as a bell.  
  
"I know him well enough. I know he doesn't appreciate you as much  
as I do."  
  
Damn him. David Malucci, that scoundrel. He certainly wastes no  
time in slandering me.  
  
"Stop this at once! I will hear no more of your ridiculous notions.  
John loves me. I am sorry that you can't be happy for us."  
  
I cannot help but smile, though perhaps the curl of my lip more  
resembles a smirk. An admirable try, Malucci, but my fiancé is as  
loyal as she is beautiful. What would I do without her? I decide it  
is time to make my presence known.  
  
As I stride towards them, she finally notices me. Her blue eyes  
lock with mine and I instantly feel the warmth emanating from them.  
"Miss Knight, you look lovely tonight."  
  
"Thank you, John."  
  
My gaze slides to David and we curtly nod to each other in greeting.  
"Very kind of you to keep Lucy company until I arrived," I say, with no  
obvious malice in my tone.  
  
David has the good grace to look mildly uncomfortable. "Yes, well,  
it's always a pleasure. I was just congratulating her on your  
engagement. It's...it's a fine match," he finishes lamely.  
  
"I'm glad you approve."  
  
"Darling, it's rather stifling in here. Would you accompany me onto  
the terrace for a bit of air?"  
  
As Lucy hooks her arm around mine, I look down at her. "Of course.  
Excuse us."  
  
Without a backward glance, we head towards the doors. Once outside,  
I remove my jacket and place it around her shoulders to ward off the chill.  
"Was that really necessary?" she asks, as we sit side by side on a stone  
bench.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You know what. I know some women enjoy having two grown men fight  
over them like spoiled children, but I do not. He's a good man, really.  
You just don't know that side of him."  
  
"I know him..." I start to snap a retort and stop, realizing I'm about  
to repeat Malucci's very words - 'I know him well enough.' I change  
tactics abruptly. "I overheard part of your conversation with him.  
He seems to feel I don't appreciate you as well as I should."  
  
She doesn't look pleased at my admitted eavesdropping. "If you  
listened that carefully, you should know I put a stop to his  
declaration. I know how important your work is to you, but I resent  
anyone saying it is more important than me."  
  
I mentally curse the man again. "Is that what he was saying?  
You don't believe it, I presume."  
  
"No." This is said loudly and vehemently. After a pause, her eyes  
search my face. "That is, I don't want to believe it," she continues  
softly.  
  
Unhappy that the thought could cross her mind, I grab her hand.  
"Nothing is more important to me than you. Please believe that.  
I would be lost without you."  
  
Because I tend to become so engrossed in my work and research, I suppose  
I cannot blame others for thinking Lucy comes second in my life. But it  
simply isn't true. In fact, I probably could not have come as far as I  
have without her assistance.  
  
Her upbringing is unique, as far as ladies of this age. Her mother  
abandoned her family when Lucy was a young child. She was raised  
by her father; a kindly man who treated her more as a son. He believed  
her keen mind shouldn't go to waste and so he taught her, among other  
subjects, mathematics and chemistry. She grew up longing to work  
in a laboratory but didn't have much hope of gaining employment.  
What sensible employer out there would hire a woman?  
  
When she knocked on my door three years ago, I admit to some hesitance.  
But never having felt the need to be constricted by society's  
conventions, I took a chance on her. It turned out to be the best  
decision I have ever made. Not only was she an asset to my work,  
I fell in love with her. I have yet to meet anyone with her  
combination of beauty, strength, and intelligence. It is a heady  
mix indeed.  
  
And now I find I must convince her of my love and devotion. I wonder  
if Malucci is responsible for planting the seed of doubt, or if it  
has been there all along, simply waiting for the right moment to rear  
its ugly head.  
  
She has been silent for what seems an eternity. "Lucy? Do you not  
believe me?"  
  
"I...I do believe you. I have to. Because I also would be lost without  
you." Her last words are caught on a whisper, her eyes beseeching.  
  
Leaning towards each other, we kiss, our lips melding into one.  
Although we keep the kiss chaste, my heart still thrills at  
the feel of her mouth against mine. In a few months time, we will  
experience more than the mere meeting of lips. Before my imagination  
can exceed decent boundaries, I pull back.  
  
I notice a slight shudder run through her. "Are you cold? We should  
go back."  
  
She smiles, her brow arched seductively. "No, not cold. Not cold at all.  
In fact, I feel very warm. All over."  
  
I shake my head slightly. "Good Lord, Lucy, you'll make me blush."  
  
Laughing, she nestles her head against my shoulder and I hold her  
close with one arm. She emits the tiniest of sighs before speaking.  
"Where were you tonight? Not still at the laboratory, I hope."  
  
"No. I went to visit my father."  
  
"And how is he?"  
  
"The same. Always the same."  
  
"I'm sorry." Reaching for my hand, she entwines her slim fingers  
with mine. "I wish things could be different."  
  
"As do I."  
  
"How do you feel about tomorrow? Are you nervous?"  
  
"A little," I admit. Tomorrow I face the Board of Governors at  
the hospital to present my proposal. I need their approval in order  
to continue with my research; to reach the next vital step.  
  
"I don't believe I have ever seen you nervous." She angles her head  
to the side so I may glimpse her wry smile. "Even when you proposed  
to me, you seemed so confident."  
  
"That was merely a facade. Inside, I was shaking."  
  
"I don't believe you for a second."  
  
"It's true. My knees were so weak, I almost toppled over when I  
got to my feet. Now that would have been quite the sight, hmm?"  
My slight exaggeration earns a soft giggle from her throat. I love  
that sound.  
  
Our conversation dwindles and we become quiet, simply enjoying the  
nearness of each other. The terrace door soon opens and we reluctantly  
pull apart, shifting so we are seated at a respectable distance from one  
another. I get to my feet as soon as I recognize the gentleman headed our  
way.  
  
"There you are!" Charles Knight exclaims, coming to stand before us.  
"Forgive the intrusion, but you seem to be neglecting our guests."  
  
Lucy also rises from the bench. "I'm sorry, Father. I asked John  
to bring me out here."  
  
"Why? Are you not feeling well?" The mild scolding in his tone  
gives way to concern, as he regards his daughter.  
  
"No, it's not that. I just needed some air."  
  
"Ahh, I see. Well, once you feel up to rejoining us, we should make  
the rounds and greet everyone properly." He looks at me pointedly.  
"Now that Doctor Carter is here."  
  
"I apologize for being tardy," I say, with true sincerity. I admire  
the man greatly and would never want to disappoint him.  
  
He pats my shoulder with no remaining hint of gruffness. "It's quite  
all right. You're here, that's the main thing. Come inside when  
you're ready."  
  
After we are left alone once more, I glance down at her. "Well?  
Ready to face the crowd?"  
  
"Yes. As long as you're by my side."  
  
I tuck her arm under mine and squeeze her hand gently. "Always, my love." 


	2. ACT 1 (part B)

PLEASE SEE CHAPTER 1 FOR DISCLAIMER, NOTES, ETC.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Intently, I stare at the door, wondering what fate awaits me once I have  
crossed the threshold. Will it matter how carefully I choose my words or  
has my future already been written in the stars, unfolding before me  
like a novel drawing to its certain conclusion?  
  
With a creak, the heavy door opens and a man I don't recognize beckons  
to me. "Come this way, Doctor Carter."  
  
I follow obediently and come to stand before the waiting Board of  
Governors of Cook County Hospital. Some eyes fall upon me with hostility,  
others with boredom. I ignore them all and despite my earlier resolve  
to hold nervousness at bay, I can't help but feel a slight flutter in  
my belly. However, I am certain that it is not outwardly noticeable and  
I face the group with a stance of confidence.  
  
The proceedings begin with an introduction of all who are present,  
including David Malucci and Lucy's father. Malucci's gaze is among  
those who reflect doubt and scorn at my research. I believe I can  
count on Charles Knight to support my efforts as he has in the past,  
but I know I must convince the rest of the Board as well. This will  
not be an easy task.  
  
It doesn't take long for the catcalls to begin.  
  
"If this is going to be another waste of time, Carter, you may as  
well go home right now."  
  
"Why all the mystery? All this fuss over something ridiculous, I'm sure."  
  
"You've made promises before with no results. I doubt this will be  
any different."  
  
"Enough! Come to order!" David barks, banging his gavel.  
  
I wait until the mutterings die down before I speak. "Gentlemen, I know  
I have let you down in the past but I urge you to listen to my proposal  
with an open mind. This is what I have been working towards for the  
past seven years. If I succeed, our collective future will be forever  
changed for the better."  
  
Here I pause dramatically and from the quiet stillness of the room,  
it appears I at least have their undivided attention. "I believe we  
can all agree that in every man, there are elements of good and evil.  
Kindness and hatred. Most of us go about our daily lives without giving  
a second thought to these dualities in our inner selves. We focus on  
the good and control any negative side of ourselves. We don't cross that  
line which leads to truly evil acts, like murder. But there are others  
in society that don't control this baser instinct, whether intentionally  
or through true insanity. What if I told you, gentlemen, that I am  
working on a chemical formula that can separate one's personality  
into good and evil."  
  
I swing up my hand, with thumb and forefinger a hair's width apart.  
"I am *this* close to finding the key. Just think of it. A world with  
no more anger or hatred. No more murder and violence. The extraction  
of evil from all of us, so we may live in peace and contentment."  
  
Rumblings of voices from the Board begin to grow and I raise my own  
voice to be heard. "If I am right and the good and evil forces within  
us can be separated, we can ultimately eliminate all evil from this world.  
My work with animals has shown promise but I need to try my formula on  
a human being..."  
  
My speech is interrupted by skeptical outrage. "This is ludicrous!  
You cannot possibly think we would support such a proposal!"  
  
"You're a mad scientist, Carter. I've never heard such a preposterous  
idea in all my life!"  
  
"Blasphemy! You will surely burn in Hell for these experiments  
you're conducting."  
  
"Who are you to play God?"  
  
"Think of the legalities involved. This is dangerous ground."  
  
I look from one twisted face to the other, my hope slipping away  
from me. How am I to convince them? "You must give me the chance  
to prove my theory," I say.  
  
The rantings around me continue, drowning out my plea. I look over  
at Charles and he slowly shakes his head. My heart sinks with defeat.  
  
"John, you know I have always supported you but in this, I must agree  
with the others. What you are proposing sounds too dangerous.  
These are people's lives you intend to manipulate."  
  
"I am asking for one man to test my formula on. One man to save  
the lives of many!"  
  
More shouting and grumbling descend on my head until David calls  
for order once more. The sorely disgruntled Board members slowly  
quiet down and he waits until there is complete silence. "May I have  
your verdict, please, gentlemen. All those in favour say 'aye'."  
Complete and utter silence. "All those opposed say 'nay'."  
  
My ears ring from the chorus of nays that resound in the room.  
Everyone has spoken, save one.  
  
David looks to him with questioning eyes. "Sir?"  
  
Charles looks straight at me as he ponders his decision. I can guess  
what his answer will be, but he mildly surprises me with his response.  
"Abstain," he says, his voice subdued.  
  
David speaks briskly and not without a glitter of victory in his  
dark eyes. "By five votes to zero and one abstention, Doctor Carter's  
proposition is rejected. That is all, gentlemen. Thank you."  
  
I stand quite still for a moment, stunned and dismayed. These men  
before me have no vision; not an ounce of imagination for the kind  
of world that is within our grasp.  
  
I turn to leave and find my path blocked. David is regarding me,  
his expression perplexed. "What has gotten into you, John? I used to  
respect your work so highly. Do you truly not see that what you  
proposed here today is madness?"  
  
"You don't understand. None of you do. If you only knew how close  
I am..."  
  
"For your sake and for Lucy's, I pray that you come to your senses  
and put an end to this. You're a doctor. You should be healing  
people, not subjecting them to your chemical potions."  
  
The heat rises in my cheeks as I glare at him. "Leave Lucy out of this.  
She has always been supportive of my work and always will be."  
Stepping past him, I don't hear the voice behind me until a hand clasps  
my shoulder."  
  
"John, wait." Stopping, I turn around to face him. Charles is frowning  
at me. "I'm sorry."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Do you? You must realize this isn't personal. It is not you that  
I am rejecting, but your proposal. I still look forward to the day  
that I may call you 'son'."  
  
Only a hint of a smile crosses my lips. "As do I. Please excuse me  
but I...I need to leave."  
  
"Of course."  
  
Escaping into the hallway, I breathe a sigh and look towards a friend  
that has been waiting for me. Peter Benton only has to look at my  
face to guess the outcome of this meeting. "I'm sorry, John."  
  
"Yes, so am I." My words are clipped and brusque. "Let's get out  
of here."  
  
I walk at a hurried pace, anxious to leave the building. Once outside,  
I come to a halt, unsure of which way to turn. Peter begins to move  
and I naturally fall into place at his side. "They didn't even give  
me a chance!" I burst out angrily. "They have no right to judge me,  
the fools. I am so close. I know it can work but I need the opportunity  
to prove it. I have worked so damn long and hard on this, only to have  
them brush me aside. It isn't fair, damnit!" Aware that my voice  
has been rising and strangers on the street are staring at us with  
disapproval, I lower my tone. "Sorry, Doctor Benton. I don't mean  
to take out my frustration on you."  
  
"Save your apologies. You need to forget your troubles for a while."  
We make the remainder of the trip in silence and finally stop in  
front of the darkened entrance of 'Magoos', a local drinking hole.  
Peter senses my hesitation. "There's nothing to be afraid of.  
We'll just have a drink or two and maybe a little fun."  
  
"*That's* what I'm afraid of," I say dryly.  
  
"Come on, you know I'm only joking. We won't do anything inappropriate,  
I promise."  
  
He opens the door and gestures for me to lead the way. Throwing caution  
to the wind, I go inside. Just one drink. Then I'll go home to bed,  
most likely suffering from a headache and will lie awake for hours,  
contemplating my dubious future. It sounds like a grand plan.  
  
Weaving our way around the tables, we make ourselves comfortable in  
a back corner. I am thankful to have his friendship tonight. We weren't  
always so close. In fact, there were times when I thought I hated him.  
He is my mentor. The man I looked up to the most when I was studying  
medicine. He was also my tormentor. The man who pushed me to my limits,  
always driving me to excel higher and further than I believed I was  
capable of achieving.  
  
One of the many lovely ladies serving drinks swings by our table.  
She bats her eyelashes at me but immediately frowns when she notices  
my companion. "I don't think we serve your kind in here, mister."  
  
This is not an unfamiliar scenario, but it still gets my back up  
every time. "You should address him as Doctor Benton," I say icily.  
  
"Hey, stop trying to cut in on my tables!" exclaims another young  
woman, practically elbowing the offensive waitress in the ribs.  
  
"Ouch! Nice try, Abby. This isn't your table but you know what?  
You can have it."  
  
As she whirls around on her heel and stalks away, Abby sticks her  
tongue out. I swallow a chuckle behind my hand.  
  
Abby flashes a brilliant smile that encompasses both of us. "What can  
I get for you gentlemen?"  
  
"You don't mind serving a coloured man?" Peter asks.  
  
She narrows her eyes and appears to study him. "Well, if you were  
purple or blue, I might have a problem. But a good lookin' man  
like yourself? I'll serve you anytime. Now, what'll it be?"  
  
She takes our orders and disappears from sight. We barely begin  
a conversation before another intrusion sets in. A tall,  
well-dressed man with a friendly grin approaches Peter's side.  
  
"Doctor Benton! Imagine meeting you here, after all these years.  
How have you been?"  
  
Peter introduces the man as a former colleague and I stand to  
shake hands with him. The man insists that Peter meet several  
of his friends sitting at another table and with some reluctance,  
my companion allows himself to be led away.  
  
Settling back down on my seat, it isn't long before Abby returns  
with drinks in hand. "Where's your friend?"  
  
"Talking to some people at another table."  
  
"The cad! It didn't take long for his eye to start roamin', did it!"  
  
This makes me laugh, which, by the mischievous glint in her eyes,  
is the effect she hoped for. "You look much more handsome when  
you laugh. You were positively glowering before."  
  
"With good reason."  
  
She shrugs. "Yeah, well, what can you do about other people.  
Some of 'em are just stupid."  
  
A very astute observation. "Indeed." I grow concerned when I see  
her suddenly wince, as if in pain. "Are you all right?"  
  
"Yeah, just this twinge in my foot. I've been on my feet all day."  
  
I nod towards the empty seat across from me. "Why don't you sit down  
for a while and rest?"  
  
"I'd love to but The Spider would kill me."  
  
"Er, who's that?"  
  
"My boss. And he is just like a spider too. Creepy, crawly, nasty little  
thing with beady eyes." She winces again and clutches the back of the  
chair for support. "Well, maybe I'll sit for just a minute." Easing into  
the seat, she stretches her legs out with a sigh. "Ahh, that feels good.  
A minute or two and I'll be good as new."  
  
A minute passes and then several more. She does not make a move to  
vacate the seat and I do not press her to leave. There is certainly  
no harm in her taking what is no doubt, a well-deserved rest. "Uh oh,"  
she mumbles under her breath, quickly scrambling to her feet.  
  
"What's this, Abigail, a holiday?" sneers a short and balding man,  
who places himself squarely in her face.  
  
Although I am certain this is The Spider that she referred to, I feign  
ignorance. "Excuse me, but we were having a conversation."  
  
"So? She's here to work, not talk." He pauses to leer at me with  
a suggestion that disturbs me greatly. "Unless you want to buy her  
for the night, Mister...?"  
  
"Certainly not! It's Doctor John Carter. And you are?"  
  
"Robert Romano. Ever so pleased to meet your acquaintance," he says  
sarcastically. With a dismissive air, he turns back to his employee  
and swats her on the behind. "Break is over. Let's see you serving  
those drinks."  
  
"My feet are really hurtin' me tonight, Robert. Could I have just a  
couple of minutes more?"  
  
"You've already had two minutes too many. I won't tell you again.  
Let's get to it!"  
  
Something seems to snap in Abby as she faces him defiantly. "You inhuman  
toad! All I'm askin' for is a few minutes of rest and you're actin'  
like I want a week off. What's the big deal?"  
  
Robert remains so calm and quiet, even I am unprepared for the violence  
that explodes from him. A vicious, back-handed slap sends Abby reeling  
into the chair, knocking it to the ground. Her head snaps back with  
such force, I almost expect it to separate from her neck. With a  
muffled thud, she crumples to the floor.  
  
Appalled, I shoot to my feet. Robert begins to bend over her, arms  
outstretched. Anyone witnessing the scene from this moment might  
think he intends to help her up, but I envision him dragging her up  
by the hair or delivering another blow.  
  
Coming behind him, I grab his shoulders with both hands, pulling him back.  
"Stay the hell away from her. What do you think you're doing!" I demand,  
my voice hoarse from outrage.  
  
"Let go of me!" he yells, twisting to and fro to escape my grip.  
Although he is much smaller than I am, barely taller than Abby's height,  
his strength surprises me. I finally release him, physically placing  
myself between him and the still form on the ground. It worries me that  
she has not yet stirred.  
  
The commotion has caught the attention of others nearby and some of  
the men start calling out their opinions.  
  
"Leave her alone. She's a nice girl."  
  
"Yeah, Spider, you've done enough."  
  
"I think she's dead."  
  
"No she's not, she just hit her head."  
  
"Yeah, you mean it connected with The Spider's fist."  
  
"Shut up, all of you!" Robert eyes them with menace and the majority  
of the men shrug and return to their drinking. Turning to glare at  
me next, he straightens his collar. "You're a doctor, right? See if  
she's alive. If she is, she better get to work or she's fired.  
If she's dead, take her outside and let the rats deal with her."  
  
He stomps away and I fume in silent anger. What an absolutely repulsive  
man. What previous abuse has Abby endured under his violent hand?  
  
Kneeling on the hard floor, I brush the dark brown hair away from  
her face, revealing an ugly welt high on her cheek. I note with  
much relief that she is breathing and at my slight touch, her eye  
twitches. Grimacing in pain, her eyelids flutter and finally open  
just a crack.  
  
"Abby? Can you hear me?"  
  
"Mmmmm..."  
  
"Don't try to move yet. Take your time."  
  
As I wait for her to gain some strength, Peter rushes to my side.  
"I heard what happened. How is she?"  
  
"She's conscious, at least," I say through clenched teeth. "That bastard.  
He could have killed her and he wouldn't even have blinked an eye."  
  
A little while later, with Peter's help, Abby is sitting on a chair  
and I am tending her wound as best I can. One of the other ladies  
brought a bowl of water and a clean cloth. With each dab at any  
tender spot, she flinches and inwardly, I flinch with her, hating to  
cause her additional pain.  
  
She manages the tiniest of smiles for my benefit when I am done.  
"Thank you, John. I'm sorry, may I call you John?"  
  
"Of course you may. And I am the one who should apologize. If I  
hadn't insisted you sit down, this wouldn't have happened."  
  
"Nah, it would've happened anyway. It's what usually happens when I  
shoot my mouth off at him but sometimes, I can't help myself."  
  
"It isn't right. You shouldn't have to live like this, Abby."  
  
Her sad, dark eyes look older than they should as she retorts,  
"A lot of things shouldn't happen in this world but that doesn't  
stop them from happenin'. It's just the world we live in.  
And unfortunately, this is part of my world. I have to try to  
make the best of it, that's all. And to stay out of Spider's  
way for a little while."  
  
"John, it's getting late," Peter quietly reminds me.  
  
"Yes, you're right."  
  
Abby rises from her seat, a bit unsteady, but she waves away my  
offer of help. "I'm fine. See? Good as new, like I told you.  
Thank you again, both of you, for your help."  
  
"Here, take this." Impulsively, I reach into the inner pocket of  
my jacket and hand her a card.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Where you can reach me if you...ever need a friend."  
  
Glancing up from the card, she says nothing and simply nods.  
  
Peter and I make our way outside and once again, silence is our companion.  
I mull over what has transpired tonight. It seems I have been pulled  
into Abby's world, however briefly, and it has made a lasting impression  
on me. Part of me is reluctant to leave her and with a wave of shame,  
I remember Lucy. Abby is a stranger to me; someone that needed my help  
and I happened to be there. That is all.  
  
"What will you do now?" Peter asks, voicing the question that I have  
been avoiding all night. Perhaps this partly explains why I felt  
so drawn to Abby. She was a distraction from the troubles of my  
own world. I know there is a decision to be made. I just don't know  
yet what it will be.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"You have worked so hard all these years. You mustn't give up."  
  
We will soon arrive at my doorstep and my pace slows, as though my  
feet know that I need more time to talk this through. "What if they  
are right, Doctor Benton? Maybe I have been the fool, believing in  
something that is impossible to achieve."  
  
"And what if you are right? You have to find out, one way or another."  
  
We slowly continue on and I stop at the gate. The day has been  
long and though I am physically weary, it is my soul that cries out  
for rest; for a resolution to this seemingly endless journey. He is  
right. I must see this through to the end somehow. One way or another.  
"Well, thank you for a most interesting evening."  
  
He displays a brief, but genuine smile. "You are a gifted doctor, John.  
I can't say I fully believe in your work because I don't know enough details  
about it. But I do believe in you. You must know that you will always  
have my support."  
  
I am touched by his words, for he is not one to hand out meaningless praise.  
Moments like these are rare and I confess, though he is no longer my  
teacher, it feels good to know he supports me. "And you have my  
appreciation. Thank you."  
  
We bid each other goodnight and before entering the gate, I pause to look up  
at the array of stars in the night sky, pondering that same question; has my  
fate already been written, or do I hold the power to control the course of  
my life? I suppose, like everyone else in this world, I will never know. 


	3. ACT 1 (part C)

PLEASE SEE CHAPTER 1 FOR DISCLAIMER, NOTES, ETC.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The hour is late, but Steven is there to greet me at the door. He has  
been the trusted butler in my family for as long as I can remember.  
If I recall correctly, he has surpassed the age of sixty. Though he  
is not as fast on his feet as in his youth, the clarity of his mind  
has not diminished.  
  
I hand him my coat and hat. He asks if I will be retiring for the  
evening. No, not quite. My mind is too overwhelmed with thoughts to  
rest easily.  
  
"Have a cup of tea with me, Steven," I say. Often, on nights like  
this when I know sleep will escape me, we sit in the kitchen over  
a hot drink and talk. Tonight is no exception.  
  
The familiar warmth and aroma of the tea soothes me. I begin to talk  
about the visit I made today. A visit to the mental asylum. To see  
my father.  
  
Roland Carter was once a good man; a fine, upstanding citizen and  
a loving father. But when I reached adolescence, he began to change.  
For no apparent reason, he became abusive towards me and my mother,  
both physically and verbally. His behaviour was unpredictable.  
At one moment he could be perfectly normal and at the next, he would  
fly into a rage. I began to try avoiding him at all costs, sometimes  
managing to dodge the beatings and sometimes not. By the time I began  
to study medicine, the situation at home was unbearable.  
  
Then one beautiful spring morning, I awoke to find my mother dead on  
the cobblestone path at the rear of the house. She had fallen from  
the balcony of the third floor. Breakfast had been served to my  
parents in their room just minutes before her screams were heard.  
Steven had rushed into the bedroom to find Roland standing outside  
on the balcony, looking down at the broken body of his wife. He didn't  
utter a single word and to this day, he continues to be locked in silence.  
Whether it is an intentional prison he has built for himself, I do not know.  
Did my mother somehow lose her balance that day or was she pushed? Accident  
or murder? More questions that I shall never know the answer to unless,  
by some miracle, my father regains his speech.  
  
Is he the reason why I am so driven in my quest to perfect the chemical  
formula? Perhaps. If the evil forces that have claimed him for so long  
can indeed be extinguished, why shouldn't I continue with my work? How can  
I let the ignorant Board members stop me now when I may be the only hope my  
father has? I still recall the man he had once been. I know he can be that  
man again.  
  
Steven and I converse some more and I relate my father's condition.  
He still speaks to no one and I can see no recognition in his eyes  
when he looks at me. His stare is blank and he appears void of  
any emotion. I would almost prefer him to be wild and angry once  
more, instead of this hollow shell of a man.  
  
In time, Steven announces he is going to bed. I bid him goodnight and  
retreat to my laboratory. An idea has been brewing in my mind ever  
since Doctor Benton and I parted on the street. It will be risky.  
Terribly risky. But it appears I have no alternative.  
  
I am going to use myself in this experiment. Inject the formula  
and recite a prayer. Perhaps this is the way it should be, after all.  
Is it fair of me to force the formula on another human being when  
I don't know what the result will be? Although I am confident in  
my work, I must be honest. As a scientist, I concede that I cannot  
say for sure what will happen. But this must be done. It is the  
only way.  
  
Rolling up my sleeve, I make the preparations to inject myself. Finally,  
with syringe in hand and my arm at the ready, I pause to think of Lucy.  
My dear Lucy. I believe she will come to understand why I am doing this.  
That is, I hope she will understand. I need her to understand.  
  
No more procrastination. It is time.  
  
With one sure plunge, I smoothly inject the contents of the syringe.  
There. It is done. Reaching into my desk drawer, I withdraw a notebook.  
I must document everything that occurs from this moment on. Now, there is  
no turning back.  
  
***************  
  
September 13, 1888 11:56 p.m.  
  
The formula has been injected. No noticeable changes in me yet.  
My heart is racing, but that is due to anticipation and more than  
a little fear.  
  
11:58 p.m.  
A warmth is starting to spread. Pulse is still pounding. A touch  
of dizziness. A strange urge to laugh is bubbling through me.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A blot of ink mars the page as I gouge too deeply into the paper,  
shuddering from a sudden pain that seizes my gut. Though I feel  
as if I'm on fire, beads of cold sweat run down my forehead.  
Agony. Piercing agony.  
  
Perhaps this was a mistake after all. I'm not ready to die.  
  
Unable to remain standing, I fall to the floor, writhing with  
uncontrollable twitches. I cannot breathe. Cannot think.  
What is happening to me? I'm being torn in two. It is  
unbearable! Please God, help me...help me...  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The stone floor feels cold against my cheek. I blink, shaking my  
head to clear the cobwebs. Slowly, I rise to my feet, my breathing  
deep and even. I feel so alive. Reborn. Blood singing through  
my veins. The heady feeling of freedom bursts through me and I want  
to shout to the world...  
  
"Free!"  
  
I can't stand the confines of these laboratory walls any longer.  
There is someplace else I need to be.  
  
***************  
  
Somehow, my feet take me directly to the destination I had in mind.  
Entering the establishment of drink and sin, I immediately spot  
my prey. She is seated alone, a meal of bread and stew in front  
of her.  
  
Without a breath of sound, I slip onto the seat next to her. Glancing  
at me with surprise, she doesn't hide her annoyance. "I'm not lookin'  
for company tonight," she declares. I do not utter a word. A flicker  
of recognition seems to cross her face as she stares at me, closer still.  
"Don't I know you?"  
  
I smile, my voice low and soothing. "I think not, love. We've never  
met before. But after tonight, you shall never forget me."  
  
Her eyes wide with curiosity, her meal now sits untouched. "What's your  
name?"  
  
"Truman. Nathan Truman."  
  
"I'm Abby Lockheart."  
  
"My dear." I stroke her hand, feeling the fine and fragile bones  
beneath the skin. "Think of me as your guardian angel. Your protector.  
You deserve better than a place such as this."  
  
"Well, aren't you the smooth talker. But I like your style." She leans  
towards me, searching my face. "I'm sure I know you," she whispers.  
  
My voice lowers to match hers. Soft and seductive. "Yes, Abby.  
You know the real me. I am yours and you are mine. We have a  
destiny, you and I."  
  
She blinks, looking unsure. "Destiny?"  
  
"Mmmm hmmm. You have a room upstairs, do you not?"  
  
Abruptly, she withdraws her hand from mine. "Look, I don't know what  
kind of woman you think I am, but I'm not that kind!"  
  
I chuckle at her indignant tone. "Easy, love. Don't take offense.  
I only want to get to know you better."  
  
"Right. I've heard that line before."  
  
Sensing I won't be getting anywhere with this approach tonight, I feel  
it is best to retreat. A temporary setback, but I shall return soon.  
Rising to my feet, I tip my hat to her. "I bid you goodnight, then."  
  
"You don't have to leave. Sit and talk with me. My shift is over so  
The Spider won't be buggin' us."  
  
Her dark eyes implore me to stay and though I am tempted, I feel a hint  
of mystery may serve me better. Leave her wanting to know more.  
  
"Some other time, perhaps." Once again taking her hand, I brush my lips  
against the knuckles, my gaze never straying from hers. "Goodnight,  
Miss Lockheart."  
  
She swallows visibly. "Goodnight."  
  
Once outside, there is a bounce to my step and I take no care to conceal  
my grin. It seems I cannot stop smiling. It feels so damned good to  
be alive! What to do next? Nathan Truman is unstoppable. He can do  
anything he pleases. Why, the possibilities are simply endless.  
  
***************  
  
September 20 11:00 a.m.  
  
Nightmares consume me every night, making sleep difficult. Every  
transformation racks my body with horrible pain. Others have begun  
to notice I am behaving oddly. It is now the second week of the  
experiment and no matter how difficult, I am determined to continue.  
  
September 25 8:10 p.m.  
  
The chemical formula has been altered and I am hopeful this will strike  
the right balance. I must be able to control the dark impulses that  
have invaded me. Truman's evil persona is strong but John Carter must  
be stronger. Still, I must admit, there is some hidden part of me that  
takes delight in my alter ego's wicked ways.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts and my voice is laced with  
irritation. "What is it?"  
  
"Miss Knight is here to see you, sir," Steven calls out.  
  
"I'm busy! Tell her to come tomorrow."  
  
There is a pause before the butler speaks again. "But I told her that  
yesterday, sir. Could you not spare a moment?"  
  
Had she tried to see me yesterday? I honestly don't recall. With a sigh,  
I tell Steven that I will be there presently. After jotting down a note,  
I make my way upstairs into the parlour. Lucy greets me by taking my hands  
and kissing my cheek.  
  
"John, you look exhausted," she admonishes gently.  
  
"I haven't been sleeping well," I admit. The sight and smell of her  
fill my senses with pleasure. I truly am glad to see her.  
  
"You have been working much too hard. Please, let me take you to dinner."  
  
"No, I can't. I'm in the middle of something important right now."  
The disappointment in her expressive face causes me some guilt, but I  
brush the feeling aside.  
  
"We wouldn't be long. There is that place around the corner that you  
like so much..."  
  
"I said I can't, Lucy!" I snap, walking away from her. My nerves have  
been stretched taut lately and I inwardly scold myself for letting  
it show so easily. Turning around, I find myself facing her anger.  
  
"Am I asking so much of you? I have only seen you once since the party!  
All I ask for is some civilized conversation over dinner, before you  
lock yourself up in the laboratory. And speaking of which, when will  
I be allowed to assist you again? Why are you keeping secrets from me?"  
  
I have been dreading this moment, for I knew it would come soon. Until I  
decided to test the formula on myself, Lucy was an integral part of  
my work. When the Board rejected my proposal, she was as disappointed  
as me. But I simply cannot tell her that I have made myself the subject  
of this experiment. I cannot tell anyone.  
  
"Please, be patient with me," I say.  
  
"Is it because you don't trust me? Or that you doubt my abilities?"  
  
"No, not at all."  
  
"Tell me the truth, John," she insists. "I can bear it. I just need you  
to be honest with me."  
  
Placing my hands on her shoulders, I look directly into her lovely eyes.  
"The truth is, you have been a brilliant assistant. I could not have  
come so far without you. But right now, I need to be alone in my work.  
In time, you will know everything. But for now, it is you who must place  
your trust in me."  
  
She ponders my words and finally, nods her acceptance. "I do trust you.  
But that doesn't stop me from worrying about you. Is Steven making sure  
you eat properly?"  
  
"Yes, my love. There is no need to worry."  
  
With a slight sigh, she places her head against my chest and I hold  
her close, breathing in the scent of her. We stay in the embrace until  
she breaks away. "I'll leave you to your work, then." Her voice is  
quiet and resigned.  
  
I know she is not happy, but she has always known how important my research  
is to me. Other women would have long ago abandoned me for lack of proper  
attention. The very fact that Lucy does not cling to me like others I  
have known, make her all the more endearing to me. Sometimes, I think  
she does deserve better. "Thank you for understanding," I say.  
  
After seeing her to the door, I return to the laboratory and continue on.  
Minutes later, another sharp rap severs my concentration. "What now?"  
I bark, glaring at Steven as he partially enters through the doorway.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir, but another lady is here to see you. I have never  
seen her before but she claims to know you. I would have turned her  
away but she does have your card."  
  
Frowning, I start to say that I will receive no more visitors, but something  
stops me. "Let her in, Steven."  
  
Scribbling another note to remind myself of my train of thought when  
I return, I once again enter the parlour. A petite woman with dark tresses  
and a red dress is examining the large portrait of my father. She gives  
me a nervous smile when I approach her, smoothing down her hair with one  
hand.  
  
"Remember me, Doctor Carter? From Magoos?"  
  
"I do. Abby, isn't it?"  
  
"Right. Um, you gave me your card that night." Reaching into her pocket,  
she shows it to me. "'46 Harding Street'."  
  
"'Harley Street', you mean," I correct.  
  
She looks flustered. "Right, that's what I meant to say. Usually I  
would've thrown something like that away but you were so nice to me when  
The Spider, well, you know..." Talking very quickly, her voice trails  
away, perhaps in embarrassment. "Nice place you got here. Real nice."  
She spins on her heel, throwing her arms wide, as if to encompass the  
room. With a sudden wince, she brings her arms back to her sides,  
seeming to favour her right shoulder.  
  
I step closer to her, concerned. "What's wrong? Has he hurt you again?"  
  
"No, not this time. This time it was a customer." I lead her to a chair  
and as she sits, she begins to unbutton the top portion of her dress.  
Again, she speaks quickly, her words tumbling forth in a rush. "But I  
don't want you gettin' the wrong idea, sir. This isn't somethin' I usually  
do with a customer. Some of the other girls do and The Spider is always  
on me to bring in more money. Pushin' me in that direction, you know?  
I always expect him to kick me out but I guess he doesn't because I'm  
a hard worker. Anyway, when this fella showed up again, I took him to  
my room because I liked him. He was...different than anyone else.  
Romantic. Talked about destiny. I never heard words like that from  
a man before."  
  
Standing behind her, I gently push down the neckline of her dress to  
reveal her wounds. My breath is emitted in a hiss as I regard what  
appears to be bite marks and fingernail gouges, extending from her upper  
shoulder to almost midway down her back. The wounds are red; angry and  
swollen. "The man is a monster," I say sharply.  
  
"Not a pretty sight, is it," she says, a sardonic edge to her tone.  
"I'll never forget his name, though. Nathan Truman."  
  
This revelation sends a cold chill down my spine and I take a step  
backwards. "Are...are you sure?" I stutter.  
  
"Oh, yeah. Like I said, I'll never forget it." I am silent for so long,  
she turns halfway in her seat, clutching the front of her dress together  
to glance back at me. "Is somethin' wrong?"  
  
"No, I, excuse me a moment. I have some medicine downstairs." Beating a  
hasty retreat to gather some supplies from a cabinet in the laboratory,  
I pause to gather my wits. I am sick. Utterly sick at what Truman has  
done. But how can I deceive myself? My own two hands have done this to  
her. Bloodied her ivory skin and caused her suffering. I *must* regain  
control of the beast!  
  
Returning upstairs, I set the supplies on a tray and begin to treat her  
injuries. As I start to cleanse the area, she flinches involuntarily,  
her breath catching in her throat. "It stings, I know. I'm sorry."  
I continue on and she stoically remains still. I can only pray that the  
area does not become infected. The final step is the placement of  
protective gauze over the wounds, and I am finished. I place a gentle hand  
on her unaffected shoulder. "There, now, I am done."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Her voice sounds strangely hoarse as she briefly covers my hand with one  
of her own. I help her adjust her dress to regain some modesty again.  
A silent, lone tear slips down her cheek and the shame slices through me  
again like a ragged knife. "I'm sorry, Abby. I can offer you something  
for the pain."  
  
She shakes her head, her fingers trembling as she fastens the last  
button. "It's not that. I'm just...you're so...wonderful to me.  
Nobody has ever been kind to me, like you are."  
  
Her sorrowful admission touches my heart. "No one? Surely your family  
or your mother..."  
  
She interrupts with a bitter laugh. "My mother? She's completely crazy.  
She's probably dead by now, but I haven't seen her in ten years. No, sir,  
you are the only bit of kindness in my life. Not that I deserve it,  
but I appreciate it all the same."  
  
Rising from the seat, her face downcast, I lift her chin up until she looks  
at me. "Don't say such things, Abby. You deserve every bit of kindness.  
I'm only sorry the world has been so cruel to you."  
  
Her eyes fill with tears again, spilling over, and she brushes them away  
impatiently. "Please stop sayin' 'I'm sorry'. You don't have anythin'  
to apologize for."  
  
Grabbing my hand, she kisses the palm and presses it against her cheek.  
From this distance, I can discern the bruises beneath the makeup that stain  
her cheekbone; testimony of the cruelty she endured the other night. Our  
eyes meet and neither one of us seems able to look away. As she strains on  
her toes, tilting her head back, my head is drawn down, pulled by an  
invisible force. Before my lips manage to graze hers, I come to my  
senses. "I can't do this," I murmur, straightening up again.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I'm engaged. To a woman I adore. I'm sorry."  
  
"I told you, stop sayin' you're sorry!" she snaps. With a contrite look,  
she covers her mouth with one hand. "Oh God, what must you think of me?"  
she mumbles from beneath her hand. Abruptly, she uncovers her mouth.  
"Now I'm the one who's sorry. Here I go throwin' myself at you and you're  
just takin' pity on me."  
  
"It isn't pity. I don't want you thinking that. If I wasn't involved  
with someone else, I...there might be something between us."  
  
"Really?"  
  
A tender smile curls my lips as I hear the mixture of hope, doubt, and  
wonder in her voice. "Yes, really."  
  
"Well." She clears her throat and tries again. "Well, you certainly  
know how to make a girl's day, Doctor Carter. Thank you for your help.  
Again."  
  
"You're quite welcome." I walk her to the door. "Abby, please promise  
me one thing."  
  
"Anythin'."  
  
Although it is on the tip of my tongue to warn her about Nathan Truman,  
I find I cannot do it. Besides, she must have the good sense not to  
go near him. Not after what he did to her.  
  
"Just...take care of yourself."  
  
After closing the door, I go to the window and look outside. Abby is  
making her way across the path with slow steps, her head slumped down once  
more. At one point she stops, bringing her hands to her face. Though I  
cannot say for sure from my vantage point, I imagine she is crying. With a  
final heave of her shoulders, her head comes back up and for several  
seconds, she remains as still as a statue. Finally, she begins to walk  
towards the street, disappearing from sight.  
  
Back to the quiet confines of my laboratory once more, I try to continue  
from where I left off, but my mind wanders. I cannot erase the image  
of those bloody, swollen welts on Abby's skin. I have no memory of  
inflicting those injuries, yet I must have done so. Truman is to blame.  
I must alter the formula again. The current one still does not allow  
me to have complete control over my evil twin. There is much work to  
be done.  
  
CURTAIN DROPS...INTERMISSION... 


	4. ACT 2 (part A)

PLEASE SEE CHAPTER 1 FOR DISCLAIMER, NOTES, ETC.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Why is it, that I feel most alive at night? There must be something  
about the inky darkness that calls to my soul, binding us inextricably   
together. Or perhaps the attraction lies in my affinity for the other  
folk that also seem to thrive after dusk; the thieves, the prostitutes,  
the drunken politicians. Ahh, speaking of politicians, here comes one now.  
  
The man darting out of Magoos turns down an alley and I swiftly follow  
behind him. This is too perfect. "Excuse me!" I call out jovially.  
"Arthur Kensington, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes." With an air of suspicion, the old man stops to look at me, his  
eyes slightly narrowed from behind his spectacles. "What do you want?"  
  
"What do I want?" I repeat, in the same cheerful, conversational tone.  
"Why, nothing for myself. But Doctor Carter has asked me to give you  
a message."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
I see I have surprised him, but still hold his attention. "Yes. You are  
Arthur Kensington, distinguished Board member of Cook County Hospital,  
are you not?"  
  
"I am."  
  
"Pity. For you."  
  
In one swift motion, I withdraw my sword from its concealed scabbard  
and plunge it into the gentleman's throat. I am not satisfied until  
it sinks to the hilt. His eyes are wild with shock and pain; a strangled  
gurgling in his throat as crimson blood spews forth in a gushing flood.  
I yank out the sword and he crumples to the ground, twitching for  
several seconds before becoming still. Mesmerized by the sight,  
I stare at my handiwork for a while, delighted by the growing pool  
of blood that spreads from his mangled throat. Is that me laughing?  
  
Replacing my sword in its sheath, I step over the body and whistle a  
tune, as my footsteps echo down the alleyway.  
  
***************  
  
October 7 7:05 p.m.  
  
I am starting to lose control of the experiment. Truman is gaining  
more power and I am afraid of losing myself. Am I being absorbed  
into Truman or he into me? I have no concrete memories of what he  
has done but I have dreams. Unspeakable nightmares filled with screams  
and blood. Blood that flows like an endless river, threatening to  
drown me. Though I fear I am going mad, I cannot bring myself to  
stop. Not just yet. If only the pharmacy would deliver those drugs!  
I am sure the new formula will work. I cannot leave the house,  
for fear the transformations will overtake me at any time. I could not  
live with myself if I hurt anyone I care for.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Someone is approaching. I turn my head to find a familiar face coming  
towards me, his brow furrowed with concern.   
  
"Thank you for coming," I say, hurriedly pressing a slip of paper  
into his hands. "This is a list of the new drugs I need. Please go  
as quickly as you can."  
  
Peter Benton frowns, first at the crumpled paper in his hand, then  
at me. "Hold on a moment. You refuse to see me for days, then I get  
a frantic message to come here. I need to know what is going on."  
  
"And I need those drugs! I cannot go to the pharmacy myself. I need  
your help, Doctor Benton."  
  
"Why? Why can you not go? Are you ill?" He steps closer, scrutinizing  
me in a fashion that makes me want to hide in the shadows. "You do look  
pale. Agitated." His voice softens slightly, his concern coming to the  
forefront again. "Something is wrong. Terribly wrong. Tell me."  
  
I shake my head, pleading with my eyes. "I can't. Not now. Right now  
I need you to obtain those drugs. Please!"  
  
Staring at me with an unreadable expression, he purses his lips.  
"Fine. I'll go. But I need some sort of explanation when I return.  
Everyone is worried about you and with good reason, I see."  
  
Relieved when he finally goes on his way, all I can do is sit and wait.  
A sudden twisting of my gut wrenches a gasp from my throat. I double  
over in the chair, consumed with pain. It is happening again, out of  
my control...I can't stop it...  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I concentrate on each inhalation and exhalation of air; the very breath  
of life. How fragile it is. Able to be snuffed out of others with one  
squeeze of my bare hands.  
  
All light has been extinguished from the room, save for one lamp set  
on a low flame. Now and then it stutters and flickers, casting strange  
and elongated images on the walls.  
  
"John?" calls out a voice from above. "Are you there?"  
  
"He is not," I answer.  
  
After a hesitation, the man descends the steps slowly. "Who are you?"  
His tone is demanding; one that is accustomed to receiving quick replies.  
  
"A colleague of Doctor Carter."  
  
"Colleague? What is your name?"  
  
"Nathan Truman."  
  
Cautiously, the man approaches me, his eyes flashing with suspicion.  
"He's never mentioned you. Where is he?"  
  
"Out," I reply shortly. "He asks that you leave the drugs with me,  
Doctor Benton."  
  
He looks startled that I know his name. But he is a stubborn fellow.  
"I won't give them to anyone but John."  
  
Leaping from the chair, I advance on him and he shrinks back, eyes wide.  
"Don't be a fool, Doctor! Hand them over."  
  
"I will not. Stay back, sir! What have you done with John?" He looks  
around him, as if expecting to see a fallen body on the floor.  
  
So the good friend fears for Carter's life. As well he should. I am the  
one in control now. "Is it John you want then?" I taunt, my voice a  
low growl. "I'll give you your precious John." Grabbing the package  
from Benton's hands, I tear into it, pushing him away as he tries to  
stop me. I hear him unsheath his sword before I see it. Spinning around,  
I meet him head on, but he is no match for my overpowering strength.  
Wrenching the sword from his hand, I aim the tip for his throat.  
"Take care, Benton, unless you want to end up like the others." He steps  
back and I place the sword on the work bench, within easy reach. It takes  
me less than a minute to fill the syringe with the newly provided drugs.  
"Watch and learn," I hiss, plunging the needle into my thigh. Staggering  
on my feet, I manage to remain upright until the excrutiating pain overcomes  
me. With a ragged cry, I drop to the floor.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The roar in my ears grows dimmer and the pain starts to dissipate. Gasping,  
I begin to raise myself from the floor. A face swims into my vision and  
blinking furiously, I am horrified when recognition sets in. "Doctor Benton!"  
  
"Oh my God. My God, John!" He sounds equally stunned, shaking his head  
in disbelief. "What have you done to yourself?"  
  
So he knows. He must have witnessed my transformation. I take the offered  
hand and rise to my feet, trying to control the residual tremors that run  
through me. "Now you know. I am the subject of my own experiment."  
  
"One that has obviously gotten out of hand!" Peter exclaims. "Are you  
even aware of what just happened?"  
  
"No. I don't know the things that Truman does. At least, not completely.  
I think on some level, I must know. I...have dreams."  
  
"Well, he held that sword to my throat!" Pointing at the weapon on the  
table, he glares at me. "And I tell you, by the look in his eye, he would  
have liked nothing better than to see my blood spilled."   
  
Visibly trying to calm down, he takes several breaths, finally sitting down  
in the nearby chair. He stares at me, contemplating my countenance. "It's  
the strangest thing," he says slowly. "When I looked at Nathan Truman,  
there was such evil and menace in his face. A madness. I did not once  
recognize that it was you. And yet, when I look at you now, I see a hint  
of the madman in you. In your eyes. And I know that some part of you must  
have been in Truman too."  
  
It is the truth, but I do not want to hear it from him. "I can still control  
this. With these new drugs, I should be able to..."  
  
"No, John, you have gone too far!" he interrupts me vehemently, reminding  
me of my younger days when he often reprimanded me. "You cannot hope to  
control the monster you have created. It's too risky. Not only for  
yourself, but others in your life. What if Lucy had been here? Think of  
what could have happened!"  
  
"But it didn't happen. It won't happen!"  
  
"What about the others that have already been killed?"  
  
"What...what others?" I stammer.  
  
"Three members of the Board have all been mysteriously murdered, all in  
the past week. Are you telling me you didn't know?"  
  
An icicle of fear seems to stab me in the back, leaving me breathless.  
"No, I...I didn't know. But that does not necessarily mean Truman is  
behind it!"  
  
"I don't have solid proof. That is true," he admits. "But when you,  
sorry, when Truman was threatening me with the sword, he said, 'take care,  
Benton, unless you want to end up like the others'."  
  
Though my heart still wants to protest, I am steadily losing ground.  
It must be true. But my mind rebels against the notion that my own  
hands could have committed murder. "I can't believe it," I mutter.  
"I don't want to believe it." The thought sickens me, nausea curling  
through my belly.  
  
"What do your dreams tell you?" he asks me softly.  
  
Dreams filled with blood, mayhem, powerful hunger, visions of death,  
slit throats, lust and desire.   
  
The last thought gives me pause. Desire...for Lucy? No...with dread,  
I sense that Abby is the target of Truman's desire. How exactly I know  
this, I cannot say. But I realize she is in grave danger. "You are  
right, Doctor Benton, I will put an end to this. Somehow. But first,  
you must do something else for me." Going to my desk, I write a hasty  
letter and stuff it into an envelope, along with a bit of money. I hand  
this over to him and he gives me an inquisitive look. "Go to Magoos and  
give this to Abby Lockheart. Do you remember her?"  
  
"Yes, but...why?"  
  
"I think she's in danger. From Truman. I just need your word that you  
will do this."  
  
"All right. You have my word."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Walking with him as far as the steps, I give him my final promise.  
"The experiment ends tonight. You have *my* word on that. I only  
hope you understand why I did it. What I fought so hard for."  
  
He clasps my shoulder in a firm grip. "I know, John. I'm the one who  
encouraged you not to give up, remember? I know."  
  
He climbs the stair, closing the door behind him. I make my way to the  
spare room, collapsing onto the cot. I only intend to rest for a few  
minutes. I am so weary. A few minutes are all I need.  
  
***************  
  
The crash of shattering glass wakes me abruptly. Someone is in the  
laboratory! Bolting upright, I run from the spare room to find Lucy  
gazing at me with a decidedly guilty expression, a book in her hands.  
After recovering from the surprise, I belatedly realize she is holding  
my journal.  
  
"What do you think you're doing!" I roar, causing her to flinch. Stalking  
over to her, I grab the book out of her hands. "This is private!"  
  
"I'm sorry. The door was open so I came in, looking for you. I didn't  
intend to read it, I just..."  
  
"How much did you read?" I demand, cutting her off in mid-sentence.  
  
"The...the last entry," she sputters, her eyes pleading for understanding.  
"I am so sorry, John. I have no excuse. Except that I have been worried  
sick about you and, well, I feel so cut out of your life. We used to  
share everything, including your work, and now I can only wonder what you  
have been doing. I don't know...I feel like I'm losing you. Please,  
I'm so sorry. Forgive me." Her voice finally breaking, she dissolves  
into tears. The fact that I have only seen her cry on very rare occasions  
tells me that I have wounded her deeply. I feel like an absolute heel.  
  
Tossing the book onto the table, I gather her into my arms. "Shhh, it's  
all right," I croon, stroking her back. "Please don't cry. It breaks  
my heart."  
  
Her shudders soon subside and she remains in my embrace, sniffling against  
my shoulder. "I truly am sorry," she says finally. "I should not have  
read it."  
  
"Apology accepted. But only if you will accept mine. I'm sorry if I  
frightened you."  
  
"You didn't. Well, you may have startled me. But you could never  
frighten me."  
  
I take her hand and lead her to a bench, where we may both sit. "I have  
something to tell you. Perhaps I should have told you from the very  
beginning but I wanted to protect you and in a way, I suppose, protect  
myself. After the Board turned down my proposal for the forumula,  
I tested it on myself."  
  
She inhales sharply, her gaze fixed on mine. "Go on."  
  
"I don't want to go into all the details but, let's just say, it has  
been a failure. The evil is too difficult to control. So I am going  
to end the experiment."  
  
"I see. Is that all you are going to tell me?"  
  
"It's all that I can bring myself to tell you right now. Maybe...  
one day..." My voice trails off as I silently hope she will accept  
my meager explanation.  
  
She does not disappoint me. "All right. It's a good thing I'm such a  
patient woman." She smiles at me, with gentle humour. "I had better go.  
Father is waiting on dinner."  
  
Taking advantage of our solitude, we kiss, keeping the moment sweet  
and light. Neither of us are in the mood to intensify the situation.  
Not tonight.  
  
After seeing Lucy to the door, I take care to lock it, shutting myself  
in once more. Before I even reach the bottom of the stairs, it begins  
again. "No," I groan, doubling over in agony. I must get to the drugs!  
Stumbling along, yet somehow remaining on my feet, I reach the edge of  
the table. Another piercing pain rips through me. "No, no, no..."  
  
And the nightmare begins again. 


	5. ACT 2 (part B) - Finale

PLEASE SEE CHAPTER 1 FOR DISCLAIMER, NOTES, ETC.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Walking through the crowded room, I ignore the sounds of drunken  
men; some arguing, some laughing and others making a general fool of  
themselves. I have eyes for only one woman and just as I suspect,  
she is sitting in a far corner, alone. Even with her back towards me,  
I can recognize her by the hunch of her shoulders, the curve of her  
supple neck.  
  
"Good evening, Abby."  
  
With a startled gasp, she looks up at me. I am troubled to see hope,  
followed by disappointment in her eyes. "I almost thought you were  
someone else," she murmurs.  
  
"Expecting someone, were you?"  
  
"No. I mean, I thought there was a chance..." She trails off with  
a slight sigh. "Who am I kiddin'? No, there's nobody comin' for me."  
  
Without waiting for an invitation, I sit across from her. "But I  
am here."  
  
The faltering smile on her face is a strange mixture of sadness and  
bitterness. "So I notice. Why are you here?"  
  
"To see you, of course. What are you reading?" I nod towards the  
wrinkled paper she is holding. Though I am not sure, it appears to  
be a letter.  
  
"Nothin'."  
  
She hastily folds it in two and slips it into her skirt pocket.  
Though her secretive act irritates me, I try not to let it show.  
Better to be on my best behaviour right now. Reaching across the  
wooden table, I take her hand. Though she initially attempts to  
pull away, I gently increase the pressure and she submits, allowing  
me to stroke her fingers. "I came to apologize for my behaviour  
the other night. I know I hurt you. I got carried away and I'm sorry."  
  
She gives me a guarded look, as though she doesn't quite believe me.  
"I'll say you got carried away. I'm probably goin' to have scars."  
  
My expression is contrite and perhaps not entirely false. It is a  
pity to mar such beautiful skin. But I cannot deny that part of me  
also took great pleasure in her pain. "I promise, it will never  
happen again. I don't know what came over me. You have an effect  
on me, Abby. When I am near you, I lose control and it's not enough  
to be close to you. I long to be inside of you. To know you completely."  
  
Staring at me, her lips part and then close again, a rosy flush glowing  
on her cheeks. "Don't say such things," she whispers.  
  
"Why not? It's the truth. And I will always be truthful to you."  
  
"What do you want from me?"  
  
"Another chance. Please, love, don't turn me away."  
  
Confusion reigns in her eyes, but I see a glimmer of excitement too.  
And a longing, for I know she wants to believe me. At last, she makes  
her decision. "One more chance."  
  
"That is all I ask."  
  
She leads the way and I follow her upstairs, the stairs creaking with  
noisy protest. It is dark and dirty in the hallway, a musty odour  
assailing my sensitive nose. After we enter her room, she closes and  
locks the door and then lights a single candle. Thankfully, she keeps  
her room fairly clean and neat. I cannot abide filth.  
  
We can hear the dim echo of rowdy laughter coming from the revellers  
below but within the walls of this room, there is only the sound of  
our shallow breaths. Wordlessly, I take her in my arms, my mouth closing  
on hers. The kiss is in turns hot, sweet, wet and delicious. My hands  
start to roam of their own accord, slipping over her breasts, across  
her waist and hips. The rustling of something beneath my hand distracts  
me and then curiosity gets the better of me. Dipping into the pocket of  
her skirt, I withdraw the letter in a quick motion, breaking our embrace.  
Unfolding it as I turn away from her, I briefly scan it, frowning.  
I know this writing.  
  
She attempts to grab it from me, but I easily dodge her efforts.  
"Give it back!" she cries angrily. "That's mine!"  
  
"Indeed." I start to read aloud. "'Dearest Abby. I am sorry to write  
this in haste but I must be brief. Do not, under any circumstances,  
trust Nathan Truman. He is dangerous. Evil. I am afraid he will try  
to hurt you. Please take this money and leave the city. Start a new  
life somewhere. Remember, you deserve every happiness and kindness.  
I hope you find it. Yours, John Carter'."  
  
We stare at each other, neither one of us moving an inch. She does not  
seem concerned but rather, appears to be in a dream-like state. "Can you...  
read it again to me?" she asks softly.  
  
Only then do I realize she is illiterate. What a shame. If she had only  
comprehended the letter earlier, she most likely would not have permitted  
me access to her room. "Which part do you want to hear again? That I am  
evil? Dangerous? Which part, Abby?" As I advance on her, crumpling the  
letter in one fist, she seems to snap out of her trance. Backing away  
from me, she soon has nowhere to go, pressed against the wall. "How long  
have you been seeing Carter, hmmm?"  
  
"I...I haven't been seein' him!"  
  
"Liar! The truth is in this letter. And in your eyes. That was love  
I just saw in your eyes when I read the letter to you. You're in love  
with him!"  
  
"No, I..." Abruptly halting her protest, she fixes me with a defiant  
glare. "Well, so what if I am! It doesn't mean anythin' anyway.  
He's in love with someone else. We could never be together, him and I."  
  
The rage has been building in me, but Abby seems blissfully unaware of it.  
How is it that Carter, though engaged and unavailable, can still win  
her heart? Abby is mine and always will be. I'll make sure of that.  
  
"Do you believe what he says about me?" I ask, watching her carefully.  
  
She looks unsure. "I don't know."  
  
"And will you do as he suggests? Leave the city?"  
  
"I don't know. I don't know what to think!"  
  
Another thought comes to me, causing my blood to boil over. "It was him  
you were hoping to see tonight, wasn't it. When I first came to you."  
  
Though she doesn't reply aloud, the look in her eyes gives all the answer  
I need. My thin veneer of control snaps. Reaching under my coat, my hand  
closes around the handle of the knife. As my arm swings out high and wide,  
she sees the dull glint of metal reflected in the candlelight. With eyes  
bright in horror and fear, she opens her mouth to scream. She is silenced  
by the plunging blade of the knife that tears into her slender throat.  
  
As I step back, her body crumples to the floor in a broken heap. At once,  
I feel hot and cold chills coursing through me, my emotions sky-high.  
"You want to see him, Abby?" I exclaim, uncontrollable laughter escaping  
from my lips. "Come see what you have done, Doctor Carter."  
  
Turning inside of myself, I disappear from the world.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
My senses seem to come to me slowly. I am first aware of my beating heart,  
then the coldness of the floor, then an all too familiar coppery smell.  
  
As I slowly raise myself up on elbows, my gaze falls on the shape of a  
body, surrounded by an ever-widening pool of blood. My God, what has  
Truman gotten me into now? Doctor Benton was right.  
  
Crawling over, trying to avoid the slick pool, I pull at the unknown  
shoulder until the head lolls back, revealing a face.  
  
"Oh no. Dear God, no!"  
  
Fighting a swell of nausea, I struggle not to heave the contents of  
my stomach onto the already stained floor. With a hand that shakes  
so badly I am afraid it will be useless, I try to find a pulse at  
her wrist. The neck is usually the better area to take a pulse from  
but in this case, it is so badly damaged...  
  
Swallowing again, I force my gaze away from her throat to concentrate  
on what I am doing. I will myself to feel the faintest flutter at  
my fingertips, signalling a sign of life.  
  
There is nothing. The amount of blood spilled on the floor indicate  
she has bled to death.  
  
"Forgive me, Abby."  
  
Hot tears spring to my eyes, and I have to clamp a hand to my mouth to  
strangle the sobs threatening to overwhelm me. I cannot fall apart now.  
Not just yet.  
  
My eyes spy the knife a few feet away. I recognize it, of course,  
since it is my own. I automatically reach for it and place it in the  
sheath beneath my coat. Only then does it dawn on me that should  
I be discovered now, I will be blamed for this. For murdering Abby.  
  
But I *have* murdered her, my tortured mind reasons. Yes, Truman is  
to blame, but he is a part of me. I cannot deny that. He is the  
evil that has always lurked inside of me. And now he has escaped,  
is alive and free, with a will of his own. I cannot control him.  
  
But there is a way. Yes, if I consume all of the drugs that Doctor  
Benton obtained for me today, I should be able to suppress Truman  
completely. I can put a stop to this madness.  
  
I must get out of here. No one must see me leave.  
  
With a palm pressed to the wall for support, I get to my feet. My eyes  
fall upon another item on the floor; a crumpled piece of paper. Before  
I even pick it up, I know what this is. My letter to Abby. Bending down,  
I place it safely in my pocket, for I cannot afford to leave it behind.  
  
Opening the door a crack, I peek into the hallway. It is empty. Looking  
back down at her, guilt gnaws at me, straight through to the bone. How can  
I just leave her here like this? What kind of man am I? But I must get  
back to the laboratory and the last of the drugs. Truman must be stopped  
before he hurts anyone else.  
  
Slipping into the hallway, I close the door behind me and make my way  
downstairs. Keeping my head down, no one seems to notice me, for they  
are too intent on their carousing. Once outside, I fight the urge to run  
and instead, walk quickly. I'm not sure if the tremors that surge  
through me are due to the chilly air or the shock of finding Abby's body.  
  
Steven has already retired for the night, and I feel more calm once I am  
back in the laboratory with the door securely locked. It is almost over.  
Willing my hands to remain steady, I work as quickly as I can, and soon  
have three full syringes.  
  
Before injecting the first one, I suddenly think of my father. Not only  
have I failed him, but all the others I naively thought I could help.  
My intentions were good. Pure. But it was not meant to be. Without  
further hesitation, I empty the syringe into my arm. I reach for the  
second one.  
  
Did you think it would be that easy?  
  
Sweat pops out on my forehead. *Shut up! Soon you will disappear.*  
  
You can never kill me. I live inside you!  
  
My hand trembles and I cannot concentrate. *I won't let you hurt  
anyone else.*  
  
It was you who hurt them. You are me.  
  
Desperation seizes me and I almost drop the syringe. *No! It's not true!*  
  
You know it's true. Don't deny it. I will live inside you forever!  
  
I finally inject the second syringe, ripping the needle out of my arm.  
*No, no, no, no...*  
  
Yes! I cannot be destroyed, Carter! Never!  
  
Searing pain and fire rip through me, devouring me. *Damn you! I will  
destroy you. Even if I must destroy myself!*  
  
You can try but you won't succeed. I am the stronger one!  
  
With shuddering breaths, I inject the final syringe. *We shall see.*  
  
Gasping and unaware of the tears streaming down my face, I slump to the  
floor. Consciousness is fading and for now, the voices are blessedly  
silent.  
  
============================  
  
ONE MONTH LATER  
  
Everyone appears to be having a grand time. Wine and conversation flows  
freely, the air often punctuated with laughter.  
  
Lucy looks incredibly lovely. Whenever our eyes meet, I can see the  
love reflected in them. The feeling it invokes in me is indescribable.  
  
It seems I have not had one minute alone today. After another  
congratulatory shake of the hand, I retreat to a more quiet  
area and Peter soon approaches me.  
  
"You look terrible," he says bluntly.  
  
"Well, thank you very much. How kind of you to notice," I say mildly,  
faintly amused.  
  
He goes on to list my ailments. "You have obviously lost weight and look  
exhausted. And even though today is supposed to be the happiest day of  
your life, you look as if you are carrying the weight of the world on your  
shoulders. But the worst is in your eyes. They are tortured, John."  
  
Growing uncomfortable now, my gaze slides away from his. "You exaggerate.  
I am perfectly fine."  
  
"Don't lie to me. Not to me."  
  
"Doctor Benton, please! Do not speak to me of this today, of all days.  
I *am* happy. With Lucy by my side, I feel strong and able to accomplish  
anything."  
  
He regards me thoughtfully, his voice quiet and solemn. "I hope so.  
For your sake."  
  
"So this is where you are hiding," states a familiar voice. I look down  
to find Lucy by my side. Though she is smiling, she also shows a hint  
of concern. "Is everything all right?"  
  
"Yes, fine, my love," I assure her.  
  
"Well, then, may I have this next dance?" She gives Peter a teasing look.  
"I hope you don't mind if I steal him away."  
  
He bows gracefully. "Not at all, Mrs. Carter."  
  
Taking my hand, she leads me to the central area where others are  
dancing to a waltz. Joining in, we are soon twirling across the floor.  
  
"I love the sound of that," she says dreamily.  
  
"What? This song?"  
  
"No, silly man. My new name. 'Mrs. Carter'." She smiles up at me,  
her look coquettish. "I want to hear you say it."  
  
I chuckle softly. "You have heard me."  
  
"Say it again, then."  
  
"All right, *Mrs. Carter*. How was that?"  
  
"Oh, yes, it sounds even nicer when you say it."  
  
I laugh out loud. She has always been able to make me laugh.  
  
A sudden wave of dizziness causes my footing to stumble, and we abruptly  
come to a halt. I bring my hand to my temple, as bursts of shooting pain  
seem to explode behind my eyes. I hear Lucy's voice, as if from a  
great distance. "John, what's wrong?"  
  
The familiar sensation begins to rise within me and my mind frantically  
rebels against it. Please, God, do not let this happen here. Not in  
front of her. Please!  
  
Spinning away from her, I stagger towards the edge of the room,  
trying to search for Peter. Somehow, he appears before me, his face  
etched with worry. "What is it?" he asks in a hushed tone.  
  
"Please get me out of here," I moan. "It's starting."  
  
"Oh God."  
  
He needs no explanation, for he must surely remember witnessing  
my transformation, with vivid detail. Taking hold of my arm, he tries  
to guide me away from the crowd. Others are becoming aware that  
something is amiss, and I feel their stares and pointing fingers  
upon me.  
  
Lucy calls out to me and her small hand settles on my shoulder. "Are you  
ill? Tell me what's happening! Doctor Benton, what is going on?"  
  
Though I can still hear her, reality seems to be fading away. There is  
a strange buzzing in my head.  
  
"I need to take him outside. Please, stay here."  
  
"I will not! Look at his face. Something is terribly wrong. I think  
he is going to collapse. Can you hear me? John?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"John?"  
  
"There is no John." My voice is a low and threatening snarl. "Only  
Nathan Truman!"  
  
Upset to find Benton's hands upon me, I throw them off. I take a menacing  
step towards him and he wisely backs away.  
  
"What is going on here?" demands Charles Knight, marching towards me.  
  
"What is going on?" I repeat, my tone dripping with scorn. "Why nothing,  
sir. Just a bit of fun."  
  
"What on earth has gotten into you?" He stares at me, as if he has  
never seen me before. "Are you drunk?"  
  
The question makes me laugh. The sound rings out around the room,  
as everyone gazes at me with stunned silence. It appears I have their  
complete and utter attention. Spreading out my arms, I grin at them.  
"I don't need wine to make me drunk. This is the real me! Do not  
let Carter fool you!"  
  
"He's insane," I hear someone whisper.  
  
"Someone should put him in the asylum, right next to his father,"  
someone else agrees.  
  
"Quiet!" Charles orders. He then grabs my arm. That is a mistake.  
"Enough, John. Pull yourself together!"  
  
"Stop calling me John," I warn. "Before I tear you apart!" With deadly  
intent, I lunge for his throat, aiming to wrap my hands around his neck.  
  
Several women scream and numerous hands clutch at my jacket, pulling me  
backwards before I can do any damage. My strength overpowers them all  
and I am able to wrestle out of their grasp. The momentum throws me  
against a nearby table and I spot my weapon of choice lying beside the  
wedding cake. Scooping it up, I whirl around and brandish the knife  
in front of me, effectively forcing the men to retreat.  
  
I am so caught up in the moment, I do not even notice the small figure  
until she creeps up beside me. "I know what is happening," she tells me  
quietly, her gaze steady.  
  
"Ahhh, you think you have figured it out?" I taunt with derision.  
"Tell me, sweet Lucy, what is happening?"  
  
"You are the evil inside of John. But I know his goodness is stronger.  
You cannot win."  
  
She states this with such conviction, I almost feel unsure of myself.  
And the very fact that she can cause me doubt makes me want to lash  
out at her. Drawing a snake-like arm around her waist, I yank her  
towards me, until our faces are mere inches apart. I touch the tip of  
the knife against her throat and more screams and shouts fill the air.  
  
"Stop! Don't hurt her!" Charles cries out.  
  
I hear someone unsheathe their sword, and glance up to find Benton  
standing at the ready, his eyes wide and fierce. "Let her go!"  
he demands.  
  
"John, please." I look down at Lucy's tear-filled eyes. "I know  
you can hear me," she whispers. "You have to fight him."  
  
Something is lurching inside of me, crawling to escape. *Kill her!*  
  
NO!  
  
*Yes, do it! Do it now!*  
  
NOOOO!!  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Blinking, I shake my head. My bleary vision comes into focus and I am  
staring down into her face. Her lips are trembling and she is clearly  
afraid. Then, a flicker of hope brightens her gaze. "John, is it you?"  
  
My own gaze travels to the knife I am wielding. The one I am holding  
to her throat. "Oh, dear God," I mutter, throwing the knife to the  
floor. "I tried to kill you." I cannot hide the despair in my voice.  
  
Lucy tries to put her arms around me. "No, you stopped him! You have won."  
  
I turn away from her embrace, horrified at what I have almost done.  
I don't deserve her tenderness. I don't deserve to live.  
  
Swaying on my feet, fearing I may pass out, I fall to my knees in front  
of Peter. "Do it, please. I cannot live like this."  
  
His head jerks from side to side, the sword in his hand shaking. "I can't."  
  
"Please, Doctor Benton," I beg.  
  
"I can't do it, John!" he cries.  
  
Exhaustion overcomes me and I make my decision. Grabbing the blade of  
the sword and throwing myself forward, it pierces my chest. A breath-  
taking pain fills me, but I know it is the last pain I will ever feel again.  
  
Murmuring voices fill my senses but I cannot comprehend what anyone is  
saying - except Lucy. Somehow, my failing ears attune to her voice.  
I hear her agonized scream. My head is cradled in her lap. Soft hands  
brush against my brow. I wish I could see her face one last time, but my  
vision is no longer there. Something wet upon my cheek. I imagine she  
is crying. Or is that me?  
  
"Lucy..."  
  
"Please don't leave me."  
  
"Lucy..."  
  
"I love you, John."  
  
"Lu - "  
  
"Rest now, my love. I will stay with you until you fall asleep."  
  
Sleep. A dreamless and peaceful sleep with no more nightmares to haunt me.  
At last, I can rest.  
  
CURTAIN DROPS...THE END. 


End file.
